


Desperate Measures

by Tandirra



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, References to Drugs, Valkyrie POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14525493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandirra/pseuds/Tandirra
Summary: Valkyrie has never liked going to the Grandmaster's parties. She always gets into problems she doesn't need.





	Desperate Measures

Valk preferred to avoid the Grandmaster’s parties at almost all costs. Emphasis on almost. Much as they were perversely hedonistic in ways even she disagreed with, they did have free booze. And she was out of both booze and the money to get more. So she needed to make a few sacrifices.

Slipping in was easy. She usually got an invite anyway, just never actually showed up. That the Grandmaster seemed to genuinely like her was a little worrying, something that probably reflected her moral character, but she couldn't really bring herself to care. It was Sakaar; she was what she had to be, what she became, and there was no time to doubt that here. (Or when booze was on the line.) That she had to pretend to pal around with the crazy tyrant’s inner circle for a few hours was a small price to pay as long as she avoided him. He liked her, yes; but how much, she wasn't sure and she definitely didn't want to find out. Her position was as safe as it got on Sakaar after she brought in his champion, she had no need to endanger it for a little extra attention and a seat beside the madman.

Besides, all of the Grandmaster’s personal pets ended up dead in a few months anyway. And dead she couldn't drink. Besides, melting seemed like a pretty uncomfortable way to go. She'd much rather take her body down on her own terms.

All around her, bodies moved to the music, some strangely tuned electronic beat that thrummed its bass line loud enough she felt it in her heart. Neon lights flashed a rainbow of colors, glinting off glasses, eyes, teeth. It was all just a little too much. The Grandmaster’s tastes had been extravagant since she'd arrived thousands of years ago, but the kind that revealed just how trashy the planet was, none of the elegance of Asgard.

At least Sakaar didn't lie about its shit, though. It let you know up front you were likely to die there.

She slipped past a loud group singing poorly along with the almost incomprehensible lyrics, up to the packed bar. Shoving an armored creature out of its seat with a snarl, she slammed her hand on the counter and cleared her throat loud enough to catch the bartender's attention. His smile faded when he saw her, no doubt hoping she wouldn't go through half his stock again. Holding up a hand, she grinned. “The usual.” He nodded curtly, turning away.

In wait, she took to people watching. Which was always entertaining at these parties. Already people were sprawled on the couch or ground, out of it or locked in a tight embrace with one or more others. It didn't surprise but still she grimaced at them, at least she had the decency to do her business in the privacy of her own quarters. She'd have to get out of here before the real _festivities_ started. Other guests drank profusely, still swaying to the music or mingling. She'd yet to spot the Grandmaster himself. Perhaps he'd already retired to do other things, that would save her the effort needed to avoid him.

The brown bottle placed in front of her tore her from her thoughts and, for a few minutes, she let herself soak in the burn of it on her throat. She'd almost wavered on sober, a terrible thing. This was _exactly_ what she needed. But, as she finished the thing she felt someone jostle her, spilling the last of the drink down her front as they stumbled into her, slumping onto the seat beside her and putting their head in their hands.

Staring at them, annoyed, Valkyrie contemplated pushing them off the seat just to watch them fall. It'd be funny and payback for spilling her drink, two birds with one stone.

But, as she watched the dark haired figure, they began to slant in their seat and she recognized them with a jolt: the Grandmaster’s newest toy. She'd seen him when he'd first arrived on Sakaar, all pride wrapped in black and green leather. Looking a little too much like someone she tried to drown out. Now though, the man’s dark hair was disheveled as he ran his hands through it over and over and he wore some loose robe, something mimicking the Grandmaster's own. She couldn't quite see all of his face, but she could see him muttering to himself. If he was here that meant the Grandmaster likely was too. It'd be easier if she just got up and moved.

She hesitated on second glance. The man was shivering, definitely not in a good way. Though what he was on, she couldn’t be sure. She chewed on her bottom lip. He'd be fine, or he wouldn't. It didn't really matter to her. People came and went on Sakaar. Still… she'd done one too many things when she'd first landed on Sakaar before finally settling on the safest option: booze. She couldn't help but feel the smallest bit of pity. He was new, he was tall, pretty, and usable; exactly the Grandmaster’s type. That alone was deeply unfortunate.

Sighing, she stayed seated, only motioning to the bartender for another drink. She'd need one if she was going to talk. “Hey,” she started, kicking him in the leg to get his attention.

He snapped his head up, practically falling off the stool. She caught him by the arm, noticing how unnaturally warm he felt. Probably whatever was in his system. He didn't seem to notice her hand as he stared at her face. For a moment he said nothing, just watching her as if attempting to focus. His pupils were blown too wide, black almost swallowing his blue-green irises. Val couldn't help but wince, that meant nothing good. “H-hello.” He said with a hesitant nod. It was only after he spoke that he noticed her hand and jerked his arm away.

Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t the touchy type. For his sake she hoped that was only because of whatever he was on, she knew just how _touchy_ the Grandmaster’s parties got. “You don't look so hot.” Taking a swig of her new drink, Val watched him carefully.

He cracked the thinnest of cynical smiles. “Blunt," he quipped. But soon as he said it his coherency failed him and he dropped into uncertainty as he looked over himself in the reflection of the bar. "No. No I don't- I- hmm.” It seemed like every word took energy to muster.

“What're you on?”

Swaying again, the man shook his head. “He didn't- didn't tell me.” He eyed her drink, though not with much interest.

She couldn't help but scoff. “Did you ask?” By his silence, he didn't. Glancing out into the crowd to assure the Grandmaster wasn't lurking nearby, Val leaned in closer to the man, looking him over.

Besides his blown out pupils, he had a slight tremor to his hands, as if he couldn't quite keep them flat on the table. Or perhaps the table wasn’t keeping flat for him, that seemed more likely. His jaw was clenched painfully tight, it looked like he hadn't even noticed. His shoulders tensed and relaxed every few seconds as whatever was in his body warred for control over his brain. She couldn't only guess what the rest of him felt like. He noticed her inspection late, leaning dangerously far back in his seat. “Don't.”

“Just making sure you're not about to keel over on me, that's too messy for me to deal with.” He stared at her skeptically so she added: “it's happened before.”

Which wasn’t the right thing to say, apparently, as he grimaced, burying his head in his hands again. “You- don’t know what you’re talking about,” came a muffled reply.

“Sure I don’t. Keep saying that if it makes you feel better.” Shrugging, Val returned to her bottle. If he wasn’t going to be cooperative than she wouldn’t try to help. That made things easier. Still, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he tried to rise, taking far too long to manage the task. His hands were white knuckle on the bar. “The Grandmaster,” she glanced around again, “doesn’t really _get_ limits too well. Might have met yours on accident.”

“I’m _fine_ _,”_ he murmured, decidedly not sounding fine. As he attempted to step away, a squad of sloshed party goers roared past the both of them. Even she winced, their raised voices too sharp in her ears. But him, he wheeled back, nearly tripping over the stool he’d been sitting on. Clasping his hands over his ears, he leaned back into the bar, muttering to himself imperceptibly. Before she could even think to do anything though, he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, rising to his full height. For just a moment he reminded her of–

But no, that wasn’t possible. Not here.

And when he swung around to face her his eyes were still blown wide and the moment of regal poise passed as he slouched again, a bone deep exhaustion taking him over.

He sighed and stared too intently at her face, as if he wasn’t seeing it quite right. Depending on what he was on, he probably wasn’t. “You said- you spoke of the Grandmaster poorly. I heard you.”

Her fist was around his neck in an instant. He yelped, but the sound was lost in the bustle of the crowd. With her hand around his throat, she could feel his jumping pulse hit its erratic beat. Definitely not good. She leaned in close. “If you tell him I’ll kill you. Even if its the last thing I do.”

His panic vanished in a blink, replaced by what looked to be his best attempt at grim acceptance. Though with his pupils still blown too wide it looked more like surrender. “That's not- he isn't- I don't–”

“Don't worship the ground he walks on?” She released him when he started to squirm. “Isn't that kinda your whole job?”

Leaning against her shoulder, he shook his head. “Nh- easy to fake.” He looked off to the side, voice dropping low to something darker. “Mostly.” It was the most coherent he'd sounded.

A chill went down Val’s spine. Instead of brushing off his hand like she'd planned, she left it there. “If you don't… I mean, you at least like this stuff- him- yeah?” The alternative left a sour taste in her mouth.

He opened his mouth and closed it in rapid succession, clearly losing his focus. She shook it back into him. “I- yes- mh… I don't always-” He flushed, a bright red that turned purple as the neon lights above them flashed blue. “Doesn't matter. I do what I need to. I'm… surviving.”

“Are you?" It definitely didn't look like it. Slowly rotting, more like.

For a second his eyes glinted, defiant. _"Yes."_

She threw a hand up in mock surrender. "Got it. But... there are other ways to survive, y'know.” Realizing she'd abandoned her drink, Val grabbed for it. This conversation was not one she wanted to have even close to sober. It wasn't one she wanted to have at all. This new doll of the Grandmaster's, he wasn't like the rest of the dumb lot. Even as drugged out as he was, there was _something_ going on behind his eyes. “Less… invasive ways.”

He just shook his head again. “It's secure.” It felt wrong to contradict, though she wanted to. “And… and I could lose more.”

“So you're just letting him use you?” The idea made her squirm with discomfort, the hungry gaze of the Grandmaster all too easy to bring to mind. She took another swig to drown it out. Bitter fire cleansing her free of thinking.

He shrugged, laughing a little. The sound cracked with something close to desperation. “It's nothing, just my body.”

Staring at him, Val cradled her bottle in her lap. “Buddy. No offense but what the fuck?” He just shrugged again, looking absently at the mirrored surface of the bar. Whatever he saw there made him grimace. “I've lived on Sakaar for probably longer than you've been alive and that's still not something I'm gonna give up all too easy. Not to _him_ especially.”

“It's nothing.” He repeated, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Maybe he was good at lying to himself under normal circumstances. But drugged out he was raw as a nerve. And he was terrified. The emotion looked like it was almost choking him.

Maybe it was the alcohol in her, but she felt bad about it, about him. He’d gotten himself way in over his head with no way out. “You only get one body.” She had no words of condolences. None would really matter here. And she was never very good and consoling people. That shit never worked anyway.

“I've survived worse than this.” Back was his grim tone, though how long it would last until he slipped back into a vague, drugged fog, she didn't know.

All she could do was wonder what exactly he'd survived. “Where'd you come from, before this?” It was a taboo question. Once you got to Sakaar that's where you stayed; no one talked about their pasts because they didn't matter. Still, she was curious.

Though apparently that wasn't a good question as he stiffened, pulling back as he seemed to realize he'd been leaning on her. “That- I don't…” He looked away firmly, swaying slightly without something to hold onto. For a second he looked nauseous.

Something traumatic, clearly. She could sympathize. “Right. No, I get it. We've all got our demons.” She sure did.

“I keep thinking about him.” He wrung his hands, staring at the mirrored bar.

“The Grandmaster?” She watched him shake his head. “Who then?”

His foot tapped a manic beat against the side of the bar. “It should have been him to be thrown free. He’s- dead. She had to have _killed_ him.” His voice broke and he raised his face towards the sky, as if hoping for some clarity as his words spilled out faster and faster. “But… I don’t know what he would have done here. Done something. Found a way out. He doesn’t belong here. He would have escaped. But he’s dead. It should have been me. It should have been me. I deserve it more than him. He’s so much better- It should have been me.”

“Whatever deep revelation you think you’re having, your not. You’re on drugs.” Val called for another drink in the same motion that she consoled him bluntly. The last thing she wanted was the Grandmaster’s current favorite pet having a mental breakdown _on_ her. That wouldn’t look good for either of them. "You gotta pull yourself together."

It was as he didn't even hear her. Grimacing, he drug his hands down his face. “No. No, no. He can’t be dead. He can’t. I never wanted… Never. I left him. Oh, I’m the worst. The _worst.”_

With nothing left to say, she patted him on the back, feeling immensely awkward as she did. “There are worse people.” Though she didn’t know that. She didn’t know shit about him. He very well could be fundamentally bad. Still, she sympathized with that just a little too much. It was all a bit too relatable.

At her words, he glanced back. For just a moment she felt his eyes racking over her, trying to pick her apart. But quick as the coherency came, it vanished and he shivered, massaging his forehead. “There's… too many colors. Too much _sound_ _._ I can't _think.”_

“That'll happen when you're as drugged up as you are.” She hesitated. His moment of introspection seemed to have passed. Which was for the best, she wasn’t cut out for comforting anybody, let alone a drugged emotional wreck. Especially when that wreck could get her killed by accident just by crying on her if the Grandmaster saw. “Did the Grandmaster at least tell you he was going to do this?” To her relief, he nodded. It occurred to her that she might be able to sneak him out. He was in no state to play a part of the Grandmaster's games but if she didn't he would. Though, that might only get him in trouble. She didn't really want to drink away _more_ blood on her hands. Then again, not acting could weigh on what was left of her conscious. And he looked nearly ill with the intensity of it all. “Hey…” She started after a long moment of deliberation.

But then she saw him. The Grandmaster parted the crowd with ease, gaudy, golden, glittering. His eyes landed on the pair of them, lighting up as a wide smile spread across his face. He beelined for them, sweeping them both into his arms. Internally, she groaned. “There you are!” He kissed the man’s cheek lightly, who snapped to attention at the touch. “And there's my favorite scrapper! I never see you at these things, I'm honored!” And he sounded it. His pupils were almost as blown out as his pet’s, though he seemed to be handling it much better. Which, of course he was.

He was the one in control. No matter where everyone else was. That's what she hated so much.

Val managed a smile. “I'm a busy woman.”

He pouted. “Tsk, I don't see what could _possibly_ be so, ah- interesting.” But, too quickly he returned his attention to his pet. “Lo-lo, you just ran off. One minute I was chit-chatting with some friends and the next you were gone. Naughty! At least you found a friend of your own, and a fun friend she is, isn't she?”

Val watched his pet lean into him unconsciously, body clearly thankful for the stability even as his eyes went wide. “Yes. Yes. I needed… something to drink.” He very clearly avoided Val’s gaze, as if pretending she wasn’t there. Which was probably smart, it’d save both of them unneeded scrutiny. That he could even think that far ahead in his state was pretty impressive in and of itself, she had to give him that.

The Grandmaster tapped him on the nose. “Oh, I forgive you, Lo. I can't stay mad at that face.” He smiled at her. “I mean, look at him, could you? He's just too cute.”

Turning her attention back to the Grandmaster, Val laughed, hoping it sounded sincere enough. “He's quite the catch.”

“I know!” The Grandmaster exclaimed, giddy. “I find the most delightful people. Though you give me a run for my money,” he added with a wink. Squeezing his pet close, the Grandmaster waved at the party with a flourish of his hand. “Please, stay, have fun. I miss you whenever you're not around. And… if you want, well, the party might be moving to the Commodore later.” He ran a hand up the man’s neck and Val saw him shiver. “If you think that he's pretty now you should see him when he's all strung up and quivering. He’s just the tastiest little morsel!”

It was hard to smile at that, though Val made the effort. “I'll think about it.” She desperately tried not to, purging the idea from her head with a long draw on her bottle.

With a last laugh, the Grandmaster swanned off, his pet in tow.

Val didn't go to the Commodore that night. No, she drank until she could forget the man’s wide blown pupils, drugged confusion only barely masking something darker, smarter, and more fearful. She actively avoided the Grandmaster’s parties for nearly a week after that. When she finally cracked and went again, she almost didn't see either of them. But, as she was slipping out, she saw the Grandmaster’s pet sitting on his owner's lap, the Grandmaster working wet kisses on his neck. They met eyes for a moment and she saw his narrow before he jumped and looked down at the Grandmaster. If he remembered anything about their conversation, he didn't show it. Likely he just guessed he'd hallucinated it.

It was probably better that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'm desperately avoiding thinking about Infinity War or maybe not.


End file.
